Marriage
by green frogs
Summary: The love of her life had been forcefully torn from her side because he was too poor. When Tsubaki marries Takeshi Aoyama, a man richer and more ruthless than even her mother, she swore that she would never love him. Can her new husband change her mind?
1. My Mother

"Tsubaki, I love you," he whispered into my ear. I couldn't help but shiver a little as he did so. He placed a light kiss on my neck and I could tell he was smiling, though I was not looking at his face. Toshiro had the most adorable smiles.

"You smell wonderful," he informed me as he placed more and more kisses.

"It's the expensive Chanel perfume," I said humbly.

Toshiro shook his head. "No. The perfume only blocks the wonderful way you smell. But even when you're wearing it, I can smell the real Tsubaki. The real Tsubaki smells like heaven."

I blushed, though I was never one to do so. "I love you too, Toshiro," I whispered quietly.

"I know."

* * *

I looked at the Chanel No. 5 on my vanity. It looked like pure liquid gold, swimming in an elegant crystal bottle. I remembered when I was given my first bottle. It was the day I turned twelve, and it was the present I received from my mother. The _first_ present I've ever received from my mother. I had been so happy then, despite the words that accompanied the present, scrawled not in my mother's handwriting by her secretary's. _Be a woman that can help our company_. That was the message. No birthday wishes. No congratulations. No words of love or affection. Even at the age of twelve, I knew exactly what those words and the perfume meant. It was my job, my role in life, to be a beautiful and obedient wife to a rich man my mother picked out.

I sprayed some perfume. I used to love Chanel No. 5. I loved the way every Chanel store was heavy with the scent of it. I loved the way I felt like a woman every time I wore the perfume. It's strange, the amount of power a simple perfume can give a person. But now, I hated Chanel No. 5.

"Miss Domyoji, your dress is ready."

I turned from the vanity and looked at the big, white wedding dress in front of me. It was made in Paris and specially designed for me. It was a lovely dress, covered with antique ivory lace and pearl beadwork. It had taken six months to make. I wondered how much it cost, how many hours of work was put into it. Before _him_, I had never cared about cost. If I liked something, I would buy it. It was as simple as that. But he made me realize the value of money, and how it can alter a person's life.

No. I should stop. I promised myself so fervently that I would never think of him ever again.

"Miss, are you alright?" asked my maid. I didn't know her name. My mother changed my maids every three months so that I would never become too attached to any of them. This one looked concerned, as though afraid I would cry. I gave her a small smile. I would not cry today. I don't have any more tears left after last night.

"Yes."

I did not think about him through the whole dressing process. I did not think about him as I put on sheer white stockings. I did not think about him as I put on my snow-white corset, covered with bows and lace. I did not think about him as I donned the wedding dress, nor when my maid placed diamonds around my wrist, more like a prisoner's cuffs than a bride's jewels.

I am getting married today, becoming the wife of someone I've never met in my entire life.

"You look beautiful," said the hairdresser in appreciation.

I looked up into the mirror for the first time. The girl in the mirror looked very pretty indeed. _I'm only eighteen_. She had long black hair that had been curled to perfection. _My mother is selling me_. Her eyes were large and smoky, created by top fashion industry makeup artists flown in from New York City. _I'm getting married today, and I want to scream from the top of my lungs in horror_. Her skin was slightly tanned, and contrasted beautifully with the ivory dress. _Married to a man I don't even know_.

I nodded and stood up.

"We should leave," one of my mother's secretaries informed me. I looked around my room one last time. A room bigger than Toshiro's entire apartment. I remember trying to run away and escape this room so many times. Now I couldn't bear to leave it.

We make our way to the limo parked outside. Although the Domyoji residence had a hall large enough to fit more than hundreds of guests, we were going to have the wedding at the Aoyama mansion. It was the expressed wish of the Aoyama president. Every member of his family had married from the Aoyama temple, and it was a tradition not to be tampered with. Toshiro and I had always pictured a wedding by the beach. _Stop it. I must stop thinking about him before I go crazy_. _Something else. Anything else. _I could feel my throat closing already. Despite my belief that no more tears would flow after I had cried an ocean last night, I could feel the familiar sting. _Something else. Anything else._

Takeshi Aoyama. The man I was to marry. His father had a thriving hotel business five years ago that had control over most of Japan. When Takeshi ascended as CEO after his father's death, he expanded the Aoyama Company worldwide. He owned large shares in every hotel chain in the world. Although the Aoyama hotel is not very famous outside of Japan, Takeshi Aoyama liked to control things from the inside. Instead of having a large corporation image like the Domyoji's, he preferred to work backstage. It has served him more effectively than all the publicity my mother seems to think is necessary. Takeshi Aoyama owned most of the hotels in the world, though he used corporate puppets on the surface. He had a monopoly, and if anyone wanted to survive in the hotel business on any hidden corner in the world, they would have to deal with him. Mother had started small with her hotels and when she started to expand, she knew that the only way to do so without being crushed was through Aoyama. He would crush her without even lifting a finger, and my mother realized that he was a worthy opponent. There were very few people in the world that my mother considered to be opponents. Takeshi Aoyama ranked at the top of the list. My mother wanted her hotels to bloom, but she didn't want Takeshi Aoyama using her like a puppet. Therefore, the logical solution was to sell me. I could allow her to expand her hotels without being crushed by Aoyama.

It was hard to know what he controlled, since everything was done through secret contracts and stocks. Mother had done some digging and found out that not only did he control all of the hotels in the world, but that he was also spreading out into different areas. He had recently gained control of many pipelines running through Russia. It was hard to figure out exactly what he was worth, since so much of his fortune was a secret and no one knew exactly what he's investing in, but Mother's sources have confirmed that he was richer than we were. Hard to believe _anyone_in the world was richer than we were. Tsukasa and I've been brought up to believe that the Domyoji fortune was the world's greatest, and we had to take pride in it.

I had never seen him before. He rarely attends social functions, and I try my hardest to avoid them as well. I know that he's only twenty years old, yet he graduated from University at the age of fifteen, at which point he became the CEO of the Aoyama Company. He was supposed to be a genius. A ruthless genius.

That's all I knew about him. Not much, if you ask me. I knew his wealth. I knew what he controlled in the world and what he didn't. I knew his age and the year he became head of his company. The important, everyday stuff, I did not know about: how he took his coffee, his favorite color, his fears, his dreams, and his hobbies.

"Miss, we've just entered the Aoyama grounds," said the secretary who sat across from me in the limo.

I turned and look out the window. We had just entered a large gate. And then for miles and miles on either side of the road, I could see nothing but dense forests. Apparently the Aoyama's liked their privacy. The road was well paved, and wide enough for several cars. We drove for another twenty minutes, and the landscape changed from forests into open meadows, rolling hills, and even a large lake. If mother had any doubt he was richer than we were, his estates proved it. Although our estates had vast rose gardens and beautiful ornate fountains, it wasn't nearly half as large as his.

Just as I was starting to wonder when we would ever reach the house, I saw it. It was a large mansion, situated perfectly in a valley by a meandering stream. I had never seen a house more happily situated. Was this the prison I would be trapped in for the rest of my life? I would rather be living in a 4 ½ Tatami mat room with the one I love.

"Mr. Aoyama does not live here often," the secretary informed me from behind her dark sunglasses in a monotone voice. I didn't know her name and I didn't want to. They were all spies for the horrible witch known as my mother. "He spends most of his time in Los Angeles and Paris."

I stayed silent as we pulled up towards the house. It was large and made from what appeared to be stone, like a beautiful English castle. Romanesque arches and large windows covered the façade, along with beautifully decorated spirals and statues. It looked refined, without being too ornate.

"What kind of man is he?" I suddenly blurted out. I looked up from the windows, unsure that _I_ had actually voiced that question out loud. I wondered what was going on with me. Actually making conversation with one of _her_ evil spies?

But the woman looked at me with a little sadness in her eyes and I wondered if she was a mother as well. She certainly looked old enough to have a child, and I wondered how she felt if her daughter was sold for hotels. With celebratory joy, as my mother did? She looked around the limo, though we were the only two occupants in it. The bodyguard was sitting in the front seat with the driver, though a partition was put up between the front of the car. They could not hear our conversation.

She cleared her throat and spoke faster than I've ever heard her speak before, her eyes shifting around the limo as though she was afraid there were cameras there. "Please do not tell the president I've told you this. She does not want you to know. The reports that were given to you about Mr. Aoyama were correct, but they were not all we've found out about him. He is a character shrouded in mystery and considered to be a very cruel man by those who've dealt with him. He is ambitious and ruthless. The sources say that he is willing to do anything to get what he wants. He has demolished homes, fired thousands of people, and apparently dealt into illegal operations, without even blinking. He's known to be stone cold, without any emotions. That is why the president is so keen for you to marry him. If it had been any other man, she would've dealt with him herself, whether he had a monopoly of hotels or not. She enjoys a challenge. But this man is different and I've never seen the president _afraid_ of anyone or anything. She's afraid of him though."

Then she stopped, because the car lurched to a stop. I gaped at her, unsure of what to think. A man evil and cruel enough to make even my mother scared? What kind of monster was he?

We climbed the long stairs to the large double doors that stood five times as tall as I and wide enough for a car to pass through. I wondered how many people it took to open it. We went into the halls, where servants were moving about. It was covered with marble, from ceiling to floor, with large marble pillars running along the length of it. Statues, paintings and a beautiful crystal chandelier adorned the marble. I gasped in wonder, despite the fact that I had seen more wealth than most of the people in the world. This place was like a museum, and the painting that hung right next to the door was worth more than the entire left wing of our mansion. I wondered again how rich this man was.

A butler bowed deeply to me. "We are honored by your presence, madam."

I froze. Madam. I was as good as married to these people. At the age of eighteen, I was already a madam. I shivered involuntarily.

The butler led our party, which included me, the secretary, three body guards, a hair dresser, two makeup artists, and six servants, down a large corridor to the left and after walking for at least five minutes, we stopped in front of a large, beautiful wood door. Cherry if I'm not mistaken. He opened the door to reveal a large room, once again, covered from floor to ceiling with marble.

"You're late," my mother said from an ivory white upholstered chair. It looked eighteenth century French.

She was dressed immaculately in a Chanel suit, an eggshell color that matched well with the wedding dress I wore. No one would doubt that she was the mother of the bride. I wondered for a second where Tsukasa was. He had been asked to attend, although my father was still in New York. Not even the wedding of his only daughter could get him to leave work.

I sighed as I was ushered into a chair at yet another vanity. My makeup was retouched, my hair restyled, and my shoes cleaned again in case it had attracted any dirt.

"The entire Domyoji fortune lies on your shoulders, Tsubaki," my mother said from her chair, sipping champagne and looking at me through the large mirror from the vanity.

"And what do I care for the Domyoji fortune?" I bit back.

My mother's eyes narrowed. I hated it when she did that, because a part of me was still seven years old and terrified of my mother.

"You care because your brother's future depends on it. Our entire family's future depends on it. Always remember that."

I sighed. I had heard this speech more times than I could count. "I think Tsukasa would live a better life without this so called fortune. It's a curse."

"You have specific obligations when it comes to privilege. It's what you're born into. No one's life is fair."

"Can we save the prep talk for another time? I've already agreed to marry him," I informed her dryly. She stood up and for a second there, I thought she was going to come over and hit me, as she used to do. Instead she smiled that evil, malicious smile of hers and walked towards the windows. It afforded a breathtaking view of a garden courtyard. I was surprised to see a Japanese styled garden in the middle of this Western house. It looked so out of place, in the middle of all this marble. A koi pond was in the middle, and a small bamboo pavilion was set in the middle of the pond. I assumed it was accessible by a small bridge, since the large shrubs blocked the view. It looked relatively homey in this sea of cold, intimidating marble.

"I'm glad to see you've grown up enough to accept your responsibilities. Be sure not to make a fool of yourself today. Takeshi Aoyama is richer and wields more power than I had thought," she said pensively, the smile falling off of her face.

I wondered too if my mother knew what she had gotten me into. Takeshi Aoyama. What kind of man could he be?


	2. My Wedding

"We'll be married outside," I informed Toshiro suddenly as I snuggled closer into his warm shoulder on the Ferris wheel. We could see for miles in every direction.

"On a beach?" he asked.

I nodded. I swear that Toshiro could read my mind sometimes. "Like our first date."

Toshiro laughed suddenly. "I can just picture it now. Your family and mine, sitting together to watch us get married. I wonder what the expression on your mother's face would be."

I laughed as well and tried to picture it. What would my mother look like on my wedding day? "She'll probably be so furious she won't even come."

"Are you okay with that?" Toshiro asked me suddenly.

I looked up into his beautiful soft brown eyes, filled with love and concern. I nodded and placed a light kiss on his lips. "As long as I have you."

* * *

My mother looked very smug and happy, sitting next to the Prime Minister of Japan as she watched me walk down the aisle. I wanted to slap that smile off her face. I have never hated her so much.

Tsukasa, I was happy to notice, was staring at me like I was a goddess. I had never shown him this wedding dress before. For a boy who got into violent fistfights with everyone at school, he always seemed to love me with the greatest of sibling affections. We were so alone, for such a long time. It was no wonder that we would bond so closely. Neither of us had many friends. I wondered for a moment what would happen to Tsukasa after I married. Then I remembered the F4 and smiled a little. Thank god Tsukasa had at least _some_ friends.

The little girl in front of me, who was the daughter of the owner of half of the cell phone signals in Japan, threw rose petals with an elegance that's trained into every single girl of my social class. I suppose that one day, she too will be walking down some grand hall in a white dress getting married to a man she had never met before. I sighed and wondered if I could ever be _happy_ again or if everything, even a girl throwing flowers, would remind me of my tragic life.

The hall I was walking down was large, with ceilings that seemed to be lost in the large stone arches. Though five hundred people sat in it on elegant satin chairs, it didn't seem crowded in the least. It seemed like the only part of the house that was not covered with marble.

He was very tall. That was my first impression as I entered the hall. Taller than all of the people around him, all of the people I've ever met. But it was not his height that intimidated me. I saw what frightened my mother. It was that cold look in his eyes, like unbending steel. You knew, when you looked into those eyes, that if you ever crossed him, he would hunt you down and skin you alive. I shivered in my wedding dress as I watched him. He watched me as well, though his eyes did not meet mine. His eyes were traveling down my body, slowly, from one inch to another. I shivered again. I felt dirty. He was judging the piece of merchandise he had bought.

His eyes had finished their leisurely perusal of my body just as I reached the altar. And then his eyes turned towards the man performing the ceremony so that he never looked at me.

I had dreamed of my marriage so many times, like any other girl. It had always been to Toshiro. Toshiro with his kind brown eyes and laughing smile. He would be looking at me throughout the ceremony, not like this monster who stared straight ahead like it was a business meeting. I wanted to laugh. I suppose it was a business meeting. A merger of some sorts. I wondered what my mother would do if I laughed. I considered doing it, but I glanced up at those steel colored eyes and stopped. This man looked like he would kill me if I did anything of the sort.

"Do you take this man, Tsubaki Domyoji?" asked the priest.

I looked up from my thoughts and was startled. Had we already gotten to this part? I wondered for a long moment what would happen if I said no. I wondered what would happen if I ran out of this marbled palace and found Toshiro. He would laugh and kiss me and call me his sweet heaven. Did I really have a choice in this?

"Yes," I whispered, just loud enough for the priest and the man standing next to me to hear.

The priest nodded consent.

"Do you take this woman, Takeshi Aoyama?" asked the priest again.

I looked up at him, and wondered for the first time why he had agreed to marry me. We were a rich company and he would gain financially from this marriage. I knew that. Yet, he was not forced into this like I was. Both his parents were dead. He has no one pressuring him to marry some girl he has never met before. Didn't he believe in love? Didn't he believe he'd find the right girl for him, somewhere out there?

"I do," he said, in a clear voice. It was the first time I've heard him speak. It was the kind of voice that could calm a crowd, take control in a panic, and scare the hell out of any one in the world. It was a hard voice, and perfectly devoid of emotions.

Why marry me? Why not for love? Was this man like my mother? Someone who saw money and business as two of the most important things in the world?

"Congratulations. I pronounce you man and wife," and then it was over.

I was officially married. I wanted to throw myself off of a building.

I feared for a second that he would kiss me, but he made no move to do so. Instead, he turned and did not look at me. He took hold of my arm, and it was a hard grasp. Hard enough to leave bruises in the morning, I'm sure. To everyone else, I'm sure it looked like he was just taking my arm and guiding me down the aisle, like a husband would do for a wife.

He tugged me down the aisle again. Everyone stood up and clapped as we walked, and I wanted him to let go. I wasn't going to run away. Not now, anyways. But his hold did not loosen.

When we finished walking down the aisle, we made a right turn and came into a corridor. Marble corridor. What a surprise. He loosened his grip and motioned for a servant. A woman old enough to be Tama walked towards me. She smiled at me and looked quite kind.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Madam Aoyama," she said in a deep, warm tone.

Madam Aoyama. Oh god. How revolting that sounded.

"Please let me show you to your room," she said, and motioned for me to walk down the corridor.

I turned around, but there was no one there. Takeshi Aoyama had already disappeared.

After walking past more marble than I had ever seen in a lifetime, several wide sweeping staircases, and beautiful sculptures, we came to a stop in front of two thick double doors, made of mahogany.

I was ushered into the room by the maid. It was larger than most rooms I've been in, and a bed bigger than any I've ever seen dominated one side. Leather couches that looked masculine and dangerous clustered around a large fireplace. A magnificent crystal chandelier lit the entire room. It reminded me of the one at the Metropolitan Opera in New York City. I wondered if this one was adorned with Swarovski crystals as well.

"Your luggage have been sent from the Domyoji household, and we've unpacked them for you in your personal closet," the maid said, pointing to an antique eggshell colored door to the far corner of the room.

I nodded, too tired to even think. The maid smiled at me kindly again.

"And your kimono for the reception is in your changing closet," she said as she assisted me out of the large, white wedding dress.

"The reception?" I asked as I stood there in my underwear, corset and stockings. No. This was _not_ happening. I had done everything that witch wanted. I had married this man that I had never met in my life. Now it was done and I was no longer her pawn to push around. No more. I would give her no more of my life.

"Yes. The master is expecting you to attend at his arms."

"No," I heard someone say.

"Miss?"

"No. I'm not going," I said more firmly this time.

"But miss-" and before the maid could finish her sentence, I was already walking towards one of those ivory doors.

I slammed it behind me and locked it. I could still hear the maid yelling my name and begging me to open the door. It wasn't her fault. I knew that. But I couldn't stand it anymore. I couldn't stand the constant orders or the fact that my life was planned out for me, minute by minute.

Had my eyes not been filled with tears, I'm sure I would've gasped at the sheer elegance of the bathroom I had just locked myself into. A large crawfoot bathtub that looked like it could fit two people easily rested against a wall. A large window, trimmed in ivory and gold, provided a stunning view of a lake. Marble was everywhere, from the floor to the walls to the gigantic sink. A large, comfortable chaise looked welcoming in this world of coldness. I grabbed a towel from the rack, a large fluffy thing made of the finest Egyptian cotton I believe, and wrapped myself in it. Exhausted, from the wedding, my mother, and the sleepless night yesterday, I collapsed onto the oversized chair and fell asleep instantly with tears streaming down my face.


End file.
